Ranvir arrived at the Sentinel’s base to find Amalia and the examiner waiting for him. He looked more akin to the desk workers Ranvir’d seen during his preference test, though this guy wore all three banners from his shoulder. The first ribbon was a black square pattern on the edges of a white cloth, the second a pale green, and the third was a blue similar to the one hanging from Amalia’s shoulder. He had a fringe of closely cropped white hair ringing his head like a horseshoe.
“You must be Ranvir,” the examiner said, tapping his jaw. “My name is Phillipos, and I will be running you through our tests today. Are you willing to disclose your full Amanaris screen to us?”
Ranvir glanced at Amalia, while tapping his jaw in return. “Will that be necessary?”
“No, not at all,” the examiner said, shaking his head. “Though it will limit you from rising beyond Sentry within the organization,” as he spoke, he pulled at the blue banner hanging from his shoulder.
“Good. About those,” Ranvir gestured to the clothes again. “Are they required wear?”
Phillipos nodded. “If you will follow me. I will answer any questions you have while we walk.” They started heading towards the back of the compound where Ranvir could see a running track and some weights. “They aren’t required unless you are on official business of the Sentinels. However, you might find that they speed up your progress through various bureaucratic bottlenecks quite a bit.”
Ranvir nodded in agreement. If Sentinels really spanned the entire length and breadth of Korfyi, he could understand how they might have their fingers in quite a few political pies. He decided immediately to avoid all of them.
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The physical test was simple as he didn’t have any stats that increased his capabilities, though when asked about his stamina, he had to explain that his Concept—Ideation they called it—helped keep him push back exhaustion.
Afterwards, Phillipos gave him some time to recover before taking him inside for the written test. As Ranvir sat down at the table and arranged the pens before him, he noticed Amalia and the examiner discussing something quietly. They were just close enough that he could make out the hushed sound of their voices, but far enough away that he couldn’t understand them.
Eventually, he was given his test. When Ranvir tried to ask about the commotion, Phillipos shrugged and explained that Amalia had wanted to stay within the room as he took the test, but only the examiner and anyone taking the tests were allowed in the room.
“Why am I taking the test alone, if there are usually more people?”
“You’re being sponsored by Sentry Amalia,” the examiner explained, then tapped the paper. “You have one flare to finish as many of these questions as you can.”
Ranvir quickly leafed through the papers given to him. There were a few multiple choice, some questions that he had to answer, ranging from specifics about mana and all the way deep into political issues. While Ranvir thought he might figure out a bunch of the more technical mana questions, he felt really lost on the more political side of the questionnaire.
In the end, he held back a little and erased one of his answers to a more complicated mana question.
Once the time had run out, Amalia had temporarily left the room and returned with a huge torture device. Long thin straps of metal outlined the general size and shape of a human, along with plates on hinges that were clearly designed to wrap around a torso. There were leather straps to keep the arms and legs in place and some sort of hood that was currently hanging from one of the metal straps, but was clearly designed to go over the head.
“What’s that?” Ranvir asked, halfway getting up from his chair.
“A spiritual vice,” the bald man explained as he gathered Ranvir’s papers. “It looks much worse than it is. We’ve had multiple complaints over its barbaric and uncouth appearance, unfortunately the devices better suited for… civil company aren’t anywhere as good as these full body models.”
“And what does it do?”
“Among other things, it can measure spiritual health, read your affinities, Ability-preference, and with the hood on it can also read your Amanaris screen.”
“I’m not sure I want that,” Ranvir said, looking warily at the metal hood.
“You’re overthinking it, Ranvir,” Amalia said, giving him a wide-eyed looks, “Everyone gets read, it’s no big deal.”
“My build is kind of unique.”
The examiner cleared his throat, “What exactly is your Tier?”
“Tier? 2.”
“So you have somewhere between ten and twenty levels points distributed? Fifty to a hundred points? How many of your Ability slots have you filled?”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Ranvir hesitated. “I still only have the one.”
“Ranvir,” Amalia said. “I could probably count on one hand the amount of men and women who have come to the Sentinels with a well-established and tested build in the last decade.”
“Two decades,” the examiner corrected, then sighed. “I’m going to be brutally honest with you. No one gives a fuck if you think your build is incredibly rare, and unique, and high powered. I’ve worked here for three decades, your build isn’t special and I have seen it before. Let me guess, you’ve tested your stats and found that you don’t need anything to mitigate your Source?”
Ranvir pursed his lips. “Just put me in the damned reader.”
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Amalia sat down opposite Kyriake and handed over the papers with Ranvir’s test results. Behind Kyriake hung three banners, blown up versions of the ones currently trailing from Amalia’s own shoulders.
Kyriake’s office was a declaration of her achievements. From the vase describing her test into Urityon and the second set of Tiers, to the banners behind her desk proclaiming her House and status as a Warden, reporting directly to the Sentinel. The only banner not up was the mark of Urityon, which instead hung strapped between her shoulders. Amalia could just barely see the tips peeking above.
Kyriake’s spear stood on a display on the opposite wall, alongside her armor which emanated a strong enough pulse of mana that it registered to Amalia’s senses as a third braced in the room.
“He’s fit,” Kyriake noted as she read through the papers. “But he’s pretty young, so that’s not unexpected,” she leafed through the written text next pausing a few times to scowl at some answers, “This is an officer’s test, are you trying to shove him directly into a Sentry position?”
Amalia shook her head, “I just knew he was going to throw the test, so I made sure Phillipos gave him something harder, that way he would still display some of his skills.”
Kyriake tipped her head back and forth. “Not a bad idea. Why would he be purposefully making mistakes?”
“He doesn’t want to catch attention.”
“I mean he’s pretty clever,” Kyriake said, not sounding all that impressed, “But he’s nothing special. Unless you think he threw these questions as well?”
The head of the Legea Sentinels handed Amalia a paper. She scanned it quickly, reading over the answers Ranvir’d given. Pursing her lips, “I honestly doubt it,” she tapped the paper on the table before handing it back. “I don’t think he has the diplomatic aptitude to purposefully be this dense.”
Kyriake blew out a long breath as she went through the rest of his written answers rapidly. “Is he some kind of idiot savant?” she asked, finally looking up from the papers.
Amalia blew out a long breath, “Beats me. I think he’s just very aware of what he enjoys and doesn’t care for the rest.”
Kyriake shook her head and finally dove into the spiritual papers. “Going fully in on Mana: Draw?” then she sighed, “No Mana: Control. Perception? Nine to one ratio?” she gave Amalia an askance look. “Why exactly did you sponsor this guy?”
Amalia, however, did not answer. Instead, she just gestured for Kyriake to read on. “What’s wrong with his affinities? He chose stone, but his space… oh… he’s a Foreigner, isn’t he?”
Amalia nodded, “You haven’t heard him speak, but it makes it a lot easier to connect.”
“So how strong is he?”
“Mid-to-high Kistios, I think.”
“A minor talent, but space is useful. At the very least, he could sell his services.”
“Not unless he’s offering.”
“And you don’t think he will?”
Amalia shook her head, “I strongly doubt it. Like I said before, he wants to avoid notice. He’s been working in the city for three years and you haven’t noticed his space powers for a reason.”
Kyriake pursed her lips, and she returned her attention to the papers. This time she noticed nothing more of note, or at least she didn’t reveal it to Amalia if she did. She sat with the papers in hand for a long time, staring at Amalia but not seeing her.
“I’m not sure what to make of him exactly,” Kyriake said. “You could’ve just told me he was the one who registered at preference tests yesterday. That would’ve cleared up a lot of confusion, but… these numbers. His sensitivity,” she trailed off, her gaze focusing on Amalia.
“I know.”
“Do you know what happened to his spirit? It’s clearly been damaged to, but it hasn’t just bounced back. No, Kistios has a spirit like this.”
“So what do you say?” Amalia asked.
“I’d offer to sponsor him myself if you hadn’t already.”
“And you would make him flee the country, perhaps the plane.”
“He can do that?”
“Space powers.”
“Fast track him to Urityon. Pack on katapetra as fast as he can handle it.”
“And you’ll keep a lid on it?”
“Only if you show me what’s in your pocket.”
For the first time today, Amalia’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t reacted when she’d finally convinced Ranvir to take the test. It hadn’t so much as fluttered when she’d seen Ranvir’s test results, or even when she’d handed them over to Kyriake. Knowing Kyriake was aware of the item that had felt like it was burning a hole in her pocket since she’d bought it yesterday, that sent her heart tumbling down a hill.
Blood rushing in her ears, Amalia fished the soft satin drawstring purse out and opened the top, revealing the gold wristbands, with a band of nyketra inlaid. As her finger brushed over the nightstone, the nyketra inlaid in the other blossomed with thousands of tiny lights winking in and out.
Kyriake looked up at Amalia with wide-eyes. “Is that?”
“Yes…” Amalia said. “I just haven’t found a good time to do it yet.”
Kyriake spoke haltingly, “I mean, I expected something along these lines, but—Oh shit. Oh, shit!”
“I know,” Amalia said, carefully returning them to the purse.
“Why? I thought you were both okay with waiting…”
Until Ione kicked the bucket, Amalia finished the sentence to herself. “I tired of waiting,” among other things. “So I think I’m just going to go for it. My grandmother can sit in shit if she disagrees.”
Kyriake grinned, then let out a squeal quite unlike the warrior woman. “Can I be there?”
“No,” Obviously not. Amalia shook her head. “I’d prefer to keep it private.”
Kyriake pouted before assumed in the torn remains of her previous composure, “The next day, then.”
“That’s up to Elpir, I think.”
“Does she know you’re going to…” she gestured suggestively at the bands.
“We’ve talked about it, but I don’t think she believes it’s going to be soon.”
Kyriake sighed. “Your friend’s been pacing the entrance for the last five minutes. I think he’s ready to leave.”
Amalia sought Ranvir with her soul-sight and found him by the gates. She checked the clock on Amanaris. “I guess I actually have to go now.”
Kyriake nodded, and they stood up to hug each other, Kyriake even kissing her on either cheek, before clasping Amalia’s head in her hands. “If you hurt my little girl, I will break you in half.”
Amalia rolled her eyes, “Bye.”
“Nysea and Apisaon’s blessings on you.”